John Brunner – Jagged Orbit

But in the other hand Berry held a knife, and that he disposed of with neither irony nor delay; the frantic upward blade destined for his belly ended against the armor of the metal door, skidded with a squeal, and was twisted economically by the hilt out of Berry’s grasp into his own. For the second time in less than a minute Berry’s jaw gaped in disbelief. A long moment they stood face to face; then his nerve broke and he ran blindly for the elevator.

Madison slid the knife into his bag and said, “Tell me what you want brought back in, Miss Clay.”

Staring at him, she essayed a laugh. It wasn’t a great success. “You weren’t kidding when you said you knew how to look after yourself, were you?” she said. “Did the Army teach you all that?”

“I haven’t had too much to do in the Ginsberg,” Madishrugged. “Time to think about it, and practice.”

“But-but you got through that door without a key!” Lyla persisted. “It was locked, wasn’t it?”

“Ah. Yes, it was locked.” Madison’s dark face beno emotion.

“But you can’t open a Punch lock without the right key! I mean, not without blowing the door down!”

Madison didn’t say anything.

“All right, I guess you can. You just did it What did you use?”

Silence.

“Okay, trade secret. But tell me this, then.” She hesia listening look on her face as though she were hearing her own words and doubting that they could possibly make sense. “Do they use Punch locks in the Ginsberg?”

Madison nodded.

“And you could have opened them any time you wanted to? Just walked out?”

“I guess so.”

“Then why in hell didn’t you?” Her voice grew ragged with hysteria.

“I wasn’t meant to, Miss Clay,” Madison said. “Not till I got the legal certificate that I’d been discharged and had a guardian to answer for me for the first twelve months, you see.”

Lyla felt for a chair without looking and lowered herto its seat, very carefully. “Are you serious? Yes, of course you are-you give me the impression you couldn’t be anything but serious.”

Another pause.

“Well. Well, thanks very much, anyway. I don’t know what I’d have done if that bastard Berry had been here and I’d arrived on my own. I mean, if I’d just found the door locked and got no reply I’d have gone looking for him first because I thought he was Dan’s best friend.” She put her head in her hands and rocked back and forth. “Do you have any friends, Harry? Can I call you Harry? I don’t like calling people mister and missus and miss all the time.”

“Sure, you call me what you like,” Madison said, peering through the door to see that the corridor was empty, then briskly going to bring back the things Berry had tossed out. Carrying the bed cautiously through the door, he said, “Like I should clean this up and fix it? You wouldn’t want to be indebted to him for that one he brought in, would you?”

“No!” Lyla raised her head. “No, sling everything out that he brought here-let him drag it home, if he still has a home!”

“So you just tell me what’s his and what’s yours,” Madison invited, and propped the bed against the nearest wall.

The job was done in twenty minutes, the door closed, the deadfall set again for fear Berry might return with reinforcements, the bed thoroughly washed down with hot.water-for once the supply was plentiful, and among the things Berry had brought which had not been dumped in the corridor was some detergent-and the gash in the cushion repaired with adhesive tape from Madison’s bag. It was like a Santa Claus sack, Lyla thought, detachedly watching him at work; she could believe that if she opened it at random and enumerated its contents she’d find only what might be expected: clothing, toilet articles, perhaps a few books or souveBut whatever the problem, if Madison himself reached in, he would produce the necessary article to cope.

Tested, reinflated, the bed was back in place and the Lar was in its niche and everything else was as it had been. Madison slung his bag over his shoulder again and headed for the door.